When the Mountain Calls
by thegirlwhocriedink
Summary: When Thorin leads his company into the Lonely Mountain, he realizes that they are not the only ones to break into the forgotten, stone kingdom. Chasing a familiar face into a dragon's lair though may not only take him on a wild adventure, but perhaps challenge the depths of his greed and affection. Rated M for Good Reason. ThorinXOC
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Sleepless Nights

There was a full moon out and the small, quaint town hidden at the edge of a sea of trees was already drenched in the darkness of midnight. A metallic wind chime on the inn's porch was singing in the wind and its notes create smallb shatters in the sleeping silence. From my room, I could hear the breeze whistle between the creaks in the window frames, hundreds of leaves dancing in a violent rustle, and the soft snore of the body lying next to me.

Much like many nights before, I find myself without the loving embrace of dreams and resting slumber. There lays, deep within my bones and drifting aimlessly through my veins, a sensation. It spreads like wild fire through my arteries, flooding my heart, and escaping into my lungs. Sometimes it brings me great fear and others, overwhelming joy. Often it calls or beckons; other moments it lingers between the strands of my hair and floats through the air like faint specks of dust. My brother had told me that this was how the Earth spoke; it was the universe's language. He told me that magic was all around us but only a rare few could see it, listen for it.

_"Wizards can see it," my brother Cecil told me one night while we were young. "They can literally feel the magic and energy in the earth and the air; that's how they can cast spells." I laughed at him and taunted;_

_ "Can you see it? Huh? What's your proof?" _

_ "I don't see a damn thing," he admitted, "Just trees and rocks but my proof is you."_

_ "I've never casted any spells before," I shot back_

_ "Not yet, you haven't but I know you see it, feel it. It's the reason why you grow calm and serious when nothing is happening, or why suddenly you are bursting with joy. One day, with the proper training, you will posses great power."_

_ I frowned at that, "Power? I think it's just a feeling Cecil, not some weird magic." _

_"It's not Tierra, I wish I could prove it to you but it's a gift that only you hold in our family…" He, of course, as always, had been right and I had been terribly wrong._

In the darkness of the room, I could barely define the hand I rose and held in front of me. My fingers tingled and the sensation washed over me, flowing into my hand. My skin grew warm and a small light formed in the very center of my palm. It lit the room with an inviting glow as it rose to the ceiling and hovered there contently.

The body next to me stirred in a brief rustle but quickly settled down. I turned to him and a wave of memories still fresh from the night before rushed over me; the bard, his lyrics, his attempts to sway me, and finally giving in just so the remainder of the night wouldn't linger with uninterrupted loneliness. He was handsome with long, fair curls outlining his thin cheekbones and hard chin but his voice was hoarse for a singer and he sang just a tad off beat. In the crackling light of the fireplace, he had sung to me in the main hall of the inn reciting a poem from Kilakesh;

_"My maiden, _

_I shall light the stars for you._

_ My lady, _

_put the moon on your shoulder, _

_even as you grow older."_

I held back my chuckle with my hand as other patrons laughed openly at his display. I was no maiden, nor a lady, but for one night I could pretend and wish my shadows away with a couple of pale ales and a slice of roasted boar. I did not fall for his sweet nothings, his endless whispers, or soft touches though; I simply wanted an escape from the real and the delusional.

I sighed softly, filling my lungs with the brisk air of the rising morning and cautiously removed myself from the warmth and comfort of the bed without waking the bard. In the dim light, I retrieved my clothes and slid them on piece by piece. I decided not to dawn my armor; I had learned from many of my quests that bandits were more likely to attack if one dressed in silver and gold plating and carried an Elvish sword on the hip. Instead I put on a white long-sleeved blouse, pulled up my trousers, and slipped on my leather vest and boots. I pulled my long, white hair back and braided it down the side of my head in a messy cascade of strands.

Lastly, I found my knapsack in a corner of the room, I quickly opened it up to make sure everything was it order. It held everything from armor and weapons to small pieces of gold and precious herbs. It had everything I would need to complete my journey so I swung it over my right shoulder and turned towards the wooden door to make my leave…but something shiny flickered in the back of my eye.

A lute.

More specific, it was the bard's lute. Its strings had reflected the light from the ceiling and stopped me dead in my steps.

_What good would a lute do against a dragon?_ I thought to myself but my mind still lingered on the idea that music was company, a luxury on the lonely road to have. My conscious fought against me but my palms were already sweating with anticipation and optimism. I grabbed it, tied it to my gear, and left the room before my small magic orb faded back into darkness.

The second I stepped out of the inn, the cold air embraced me with delight and renewal. It was just before dusk, in the east the sky was transforming but the sun had still not peaked behind the distant mountains. Even now the village was at rest and the streets empty of life. I began to walk in the direction of the setting moon and the falling stars. Before me was much open land, fields and fields of wilderness and from here there would only be fragments of civilization across it. I had a map locked away in my supplies but I didn't need it, I already knew where I was going. I had studied that map a thousand times alone in the dark, under some tree or by the light of a camp fire. I memorized every detail down to the last sketch. Hidden by the haze of the world, I knew exactly where the Lonely Mountain stood.

* * *

That night, the prince could not sleep. In a room full of his fellow dwarves, Thorin laid awake after choking on smoke in his dreams. As of lately, the dragon has been haunting him. His company had finally made it to Lake Town and was about to make their final run for the Lonely Mountain. As they approach their home, the mountain, and the endless forgotten treasure, the more Smaug materialized when he closed his eyes and drifted into thought. He often dreamt of his father, Thrain, and his past life but as the dreams progress, a long shadow would slowly take over. Smaug did not always appear but the flames did. As Thorin slept he could feel smoke engulfing his lungs, great walls of flames burning his skin, and giant flashes of light stinging his eyes. No matter where he ran, where he turned, there was only an inferno of fire destroying everything in its path.

On this night, as Thorin slept, he walked with his grandfather, Thror, through the Great Hall of Erebor. They were laughing at each other, Thorin couldn't quit remember why but something Thror said made he's face light up and his dark blue eyes glisten. His grandfather had a firm hold on his shoulder and a loving smile. Thorin could only look at him and smile back, his heart filled with a soft bliss… but something caught the prince's eye. There was something behind his grandfather, moving, scaly and slimy.

_You think you can steal from me…._ It hissed through sharp teeth. _Take my treasure. _

Thorin never saw Smaug. He barely had enough time to push his grandfather and himself to the ground before the flames hit them. Suddenly, the entire kingdom was on fire. All around them was burning up; paintings, flags, the treasure… The two dwarves ran down the grand hall, through giant stone doors, and took them from one hell into the next. As they enter the adjacent room, it's filled with piles of treasure, stacks of gold, jewels, and diamonds all consumed in fire. Thorin tried to make his way through but suddenly realized that Thror was gone and the flames are coming closer, burning his skin. They come in waves, whipping him with smoldering slashes and push him back against a wall; he has nowhere to run.

_Seeeee? _ The voice came back. _This is what happens when you think you can take my gold, my preciousss. _Thorin could do nothing but look up at two blazing gold eyes staring through him. _Now your mine! _He waited to be hit with fire but it didn't happen, instead all he saw was a river of melted gold.

That's when he woke up.

Thorin could hear Dawlin's snoring and Bofur's deep, heavy breath. He thoughts were still of the dragon but his heart had finally stopped pounding in his chest and he could breath steady. _Pathetic, it was only a dream, _he told himself but it had been all too real to experience. He tried to drift back into the stream of slumber but the molten gold would come rushing back towards him, hot and ungodly. Thorin was unsure what it all meant, the river of metal was a new occurrence but it struck him odd yet familiar. Somehow, in the depths of his mind he could hear Elrond's thick elvish voice ringing a conversation he had overheard;

"_Have you forgotten? A strain of madness runs in that family. His grandfather lost his mind, his father succumbed to the same sickness; can you swear that Thorin Oakenshield will not also fall?" _It was true, even Thorin could not deny the insane obsession with gold that flowed in his family's bloodline; he had suffered through it watching Thror drool over his plunder when the dragon attacked and sacrificing countless of their own kin in attempt to regain his beloved treasure.

But was Throin his grandfather, his father? Would he too plummet and tremble to the madness that casts a shadow on his fate? Unfortunately, he did not know. He was strong, brave, and thoughtful yet he found himself filled with a strange anticipation and excitement with the progress they've made towards the mountain. His thoughts were slowly being clouded with old memories of heaps of treasure that he knew was still sitting there, waiting, calling… Sometimes Thorin himself could not end the flood of envy and desire that came with these memories and the sensation of need to hold gold pieces in his bare hands; fiddling them between his fingers and caressing the precious metal against his skin…Thorin knew he needed to be strong for himself, for his kin, for his men, but even he could not say that he could prevent himself from being overcome with dragon sickness and drowning in his forefather's gold. He could only hold his breath and hope.

* * *

Walking had turned out to be a more time consuming approach that I had original anticipated. Although it definitely had its perks when it came to acquiring valuable resources; several times I left the path to collect wild burdock or stale chicory and even ran into an old elf who traded me so juniper berries for some cattail I had previously obtained. Unfortunately, it was already mid-day and the sun was blaring down on me on this small dirt path. It had been three days since I left the small village and it would still take me several hours to arrive to Lake Town but from there would only be a short journey to the mountain.

I was in peaceful meadow where there were only small patches of leafy shrubs and growing willows trees. The grass grew high, up to my knees, and the forest line stopped right along the field in a perfect oval. I could feel the magic in the air; it was adrift in the wind and whispering between the green foliage. It was clam here, pure, holy… But in the distant, a soft murmur of violence was creating ripples in the serenity.

I stopped walking, closed my eyes, and breathed in my surroundings. There was a stream hidden beneath the vegetation, a flow of water trickling down smooth rocks and a small animal crackling, digging in the soil. I breathed out; fire, somewhere in the forest someone is burning wood and raw flesh, blood spilt on the earth was drying. A hum is lingering in the breeze but this time it's a voice, a deep, low cry.

I opened my eyes, searched the sky and the forest line for smoke but could only see the never ending blue of the heavens.

_Where…? _I thought as I gazed into the forest, I could feel it but there was no sign…

CRACK!

Instantly I looked down, surprised by the sound, to find a rabbit had hopped right to my feet. His beady black eyes were gazing at me with his head at a tilt. His fur was white with spots of chocolate brown and was still thick with his winter coat.

He stared.

"You know where it is huh little bunny?" I said softly, almost in a whisper. "Who's hurt?"

He stared. His plush body stiff and his long ears straight.

"Take me so I can help them…" Then off he went, hopping rapidly towards the trees. I instantly followed, carefully not to lose him since the grass stood taller than the tips of his colorless ears. He went directly into the forest. Huge massive oak trees and colossal redwoods darkened the sky with their blanket of leaves and the floor was concealed by a layer of withering and dead foliage. We kept going, passing forgotten caves, huge boulders of almost every color, and a second meadow where the grass was gold. I was almost out of breath when we entered a small clearing in the trees. I instantly smiled.

Here, a great oak once stood and overlooked the entire woodland, watching over the trees as a guardian but now, only its trunk stands. The empty space in the canopy above allowed light to flood onto the forest floor; it was enough for a gathering of lavender to grow.

I sighed; the scent embraced me and carried me over. I took no time at all to pull out a small cloth in my sack to wrap some up and stashing it away for later. Then grabbed some with my hands, rubbed it against my palms, and slid my fingers through my hair. The smell by itself relaxed me and put me in a satisfied mood. I realized that I had completely misplaced the rabbit with this distraction but I simply could not help myself. There were few things in this world that smelt this luxurious and for one moment, I wanted to be one of them.

"_Who are you?"_ A voice hissed, breaking me off from my brief second of bliss. I didn't react right away; it took me a fraction of a blink to come to the conclusion that this was exactly where the rabbit had intended to lead me. "_Speak or I'll kill you trespasser!"_

"Who me?" I asked, finally turning to my accuser. A tall, filthy, orc stood with his face pal and his teeth black. His armor tattered and cracked but his sword held strange markings… "Well I'm Tierra, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"_Don't play games with me, girl…"_ He put empathize on the last word as he raised the tip of his sword at me. I smiled at him which he returned with a glare.

"I see you are the serious type…" I told him, he took a step towards me.

"_You are going to make a fine dinner…"_ He crackled with a fowl smile and I laughed too. He abruptly stopped. "_What's so funny? You are about to die!" _

"It's just so funny to me that you really think that… I mean, that's just about borderline delusional." I told him, pretending to wipe a tear from my eyes as if I had really laughed that hard.

His face flashed with fury and without hesitation he charged, raising his sword up and preparing to strike. I was defenseless, or, so he thought. I mustered the sensation into both of my hands, magic swell in my fists and grew hot. My fingers tingled and my palms grew bright, whirling with the sensation. I held my hands up, as if holding a bow and arrow, took aim, and let the sensation fly through my finger tips. A pillar of light soared through the air and pierced him as he finally swung his sword. I immediately dodged the silver blade with a duck and stepped back to witness the magic arrow pierce his armor and glide right through his heart. It disappeared as quickly as it appeared but it left him a bloody hole in his chest. He fought for the last breaths of his life, wheezing and coughing. He staggered backwards, dropping his sword with a small clunck in the grass, and falling to his knees, holding his hand over his wound as black liquid oozed out.

I left him there. Slowly walked over to his fallen weapon and picked it up, holding it with both hands. It was a work of art, a quality piece that no Orc could ever fashion. The hilt was decoratively wrapped in mostly fine strips of dark leather on the grip but a round white-gold pommel at the end embossed with a rather large ruby. The cross-guard too was made from the same metal and the blade itself was engraved with ancient characters. I could not read it but I knew they were Dwarvish. I traced my fingers over the words, my eyes closed, this weapon did not always belong to fifth, the sword had been forged for someone royal, a high ranking official perhaps, and it has seen a number of battles. The metal hummed memories of a past life, previous owners and adventures. I had never seen a Dwarvish sword like this, its style was almost that of the Elves but the markings were unmistakable.

I made a quick decision to keep the sword so I had to return to the dead Orc and relieve him of its scabbard. This was unproblematic because life had already slipped away from him but something about dead bodies makes me uneasy. Call me superstitious.

After I untied it, I followed the smell of a burning fire to find his camp; it was not too far off. I kept the sword out and close to me, cautious just in case he had any friends tagging along with him. I made my way past a couple trees and could see a worn out, dirty cloth tent standing. I quickly darted behind the base of a trunk and listened.

I could hear rustling but not voices or humanly clatter. In the wind, the cry still lingered but softer than before. I slowly approached the site, carefully watching to make sure that I wasn't about to walk right into an ambush. I was finally right behind the tent; no one appeared to be inside. I quietly strolled around its right side and took a peak over the corner…what lied before me left me astounded. I stood there, gasping in marvel at a creature that could only stare back at me.

I had only ever seen a wyvern once before in my life but this one was more majestic and mightier than ever I imagined they could be. She was tied up and banded to the ground with yards of rope and stakes. She was slick black with purple hints streaking down her long neck, back, and round face. Her big, bright green eyes were wide and glistening and head low to the earth. She was watching me as I took a step towards her. The wyvern instantly struggled, attempting to beat her wings but the ropes so tight against her skin wouldn't give and prior wounds reopened, dripping fresh blood to the ground.

"Stop! You'll kill yourself!" I exclaimed and took another step towards the creature as something cracked and crackled beneath my foot. I looked; eggshells. Large, spotted eggshells that could have only came from… I was suddenly hit with a realization and my heart sunk. That Orc must have stolen her eggs and used them as bait to get to her. Once he had both it was only a matter of time before he cooked and ate the eggs. "Poor mama…" I whispered.

The wyvern was watching me again and I held my hands up to her, with one holding the sword and slowly strolling. I whispered to her soft words in Elvish, "Cormamin lindua ele lle," I let her smell my hands, hair, and the blade. She seemed relaxed now. I cut her free from the ropes and she shook off the rest in one great wave. Now, standing, she was even more gorgeous. Her wings were spiked and ragged at the ends but magnificent, stretching as far wide as the small clearing we stood in. I could do nothing but stare at her wonder and let sensation after sensation rush through my blood. She was filled with magic and the universe was speaking to us in the air. I could feel her heart beat in her scaly chest and a sorrow crying with each throb and thump.

"I'm sorry…" I told her, guilty for my tardiness but in her eyes, she spoke in a language that only the earth knew and in it the wind sung a song that filled me with a strange hopefulness. The wyvern opened her wings, the light bombarded her and she shimmered in dark shades of plum. Her eyes, peered down at me, and she motioned with her head to her back.

I raised an eyebrow and she stared back.

"Have you ever had passengers before?" I asked, scratching the back of my head and her mouth changed, almost curved upward in an awkward smile. As if she knew and completely understood what I just said. She motioned again and in a single blink, I sheathed my sword and decided to climb on her back, sitting on the gap between her neck and wings. Never in my life had I been so nervous, anxious, and excited all at once. I grabbed on to her tight and held my breath. She gave me one look, almost to encourage my strength, and took off.

We were up in the air in merely seconds and within a minute, several hundred feet above Middle Earth. I shook terribly, trying not to look down at the ever descending sanctuary of solid ground. Soon, we were leveled with the clouds and the wyvern glided on the air, skipping over each billow of white gas as she coasted the atmosphere. I held on tight but from here, I could see the world and a pure sensation swelled in my heart. I couldn't help but smile. I undid my braid and let the wind tangle my hair. There were no ripples in the magic this high up, no disturbances in the peacefulness. It was silent but yet, when I closed my eyes, I could hear so many voices scattered in the wind.

I have never been in tune to the world before, in harmony with its voice and energy. So many small clatters occur on land that it drowns out its magic but up here, where those only with wings can reach, it's strong. It calls to me in a deep, low vibration that rattles inside my bones with an ominous presence and a vast connection. I feel it all around me, inside me; a never ending current of magic. I let it wash over me as we fly.

"_Can you take me outside of Lake Town_?" I whispered and the wyvern heard me, making an insanely sharp turn to the west. Ruffles of clouds rushed by me, momentarily blinding me, and then we were in the clear. A rolling wall of white smoke dragged behind us but I could see we were quickly approaching the Lonely Mountain.

* * *

_**Disclaimer: I claim nothing, I have no rights to this chapter or another other chapter I may write.**_

_**Author Notes:  
I really hope everyone enjoyed this first chapter, it was a bit lengthy but I really hate short beginning chapters that don't point the reader towards the bulk of the plot. This is my very first LOTR Universe fanficiton so I'm going to apologize in advance if I have butchered any of the nomenclature here. I'm very motivated to get through this story from beginning to end so let me know if anything seems too fast paced. I don't want to neglect details just because I want to finish this plot I've been running through my head! Anyway, please leave me lots of reviews. Don't be afraid to point out my mistakes or things that don't make sense. I love all comments from my readers. The next chapter should be up in a couple days! Thanks for stopping by! -Inkie **_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

A Gift to a New Friend

I made it to Esgaroth just before dusk. The wyvern let me off where she could easily get in and out without being seen by any of the guardsmen and we said our goodbyes. My heart cracked having to leave her, she had quickly became my friend and I had learned many things about her on our ride over but a sensation was telling me I would see her again soon so I watched her fly north until she fell out of view. I simply strolled carelessly alongside the river as I made my way towards town. Knowing I only had a short distance to travel; I collected polished stones and washed up shells on the shore. Some were big enough to hold up to my ear and pretend I could hear an ocean.

Once in town, I did not hesitate to find the first inn. There was an immense uproar about something at the Master of Lake Town's hall but I swiftly made my way past the crowd and a few dwarves, straight into a mead hall and had the nice bartender pour me a pint. Now I was in bliss. Even though I had been traveling for only a few days, I've never had so many spontaneous events occur on a single afternoon. I've ran into Orcs before, bandits, and even a necromancer but usually my travels were calm and dull. I honestly deserve a cold ale and a comfortable seat on an unyielding floor after soaring through the air for over an hour. It is the very least I'm worthy of, I think.

I sat at the bar for some time; sipping my drink to the absolute slowest I could manage so I could keep my spot while hordes of patrons start to flock in. The bartender passed me several times, eyeing my drink and giving me a nasty glare as he walks by.

"_I know, I know, you want me to spend more shiny coins but unfortunately I gave you the only one I had,"_ I thought to myself and it was the truth. I had no money to my name, only the goods that were stored in my sack. If I wanted to stay in town tonight, I was going to have to find a way to get a couple coins or I would be out of luck as well.

"You pa-pla-lay?" Said a voice and I looked up. A drunken fool was staring at the lute tied to me. He was a poor, old man with simple white and brown clothes. I could smell the stench of alcohol on his breath even as he stood four feet away from me.

"Not to save your life," I shook my head and he frowned, his face confused, unsure.

"Howa 'bout you pla-ya song?" He asked, completely disregarding my comment. "Howa 'bout acouple coo-ins?"

"Coins?" I repeated, he held them already in his hands as if to tempt me.

"Com' on, my old lass is here. Sing 'er the right tune and she'll bloom likea daisy," I didn't exactly knew what he meant by that but I was definitely lured by the money, and the thought of a warm bed to sleep in before I took off. I almost half considered it in my head before realizing that I couldn't sing and the one verse I knew was from a lullaby. This was obviously a sign to make my leave so I pounded the rest of my ale and left while the fool yelled a shuffle of slurs at my back.

"What do I do now?" I said out loud to myself. It wasn't even midnight yet; the night sky still had a small haze of blue lingering from the sunset. I had planned not to adventure to the mountain until at least dawn but if there is nothing to pass the time then why wait? I sighed as I strolled over the lifted walkways that hovered over the dark lake water, thinking how much I will miss walking in the dark; all the healing herbs, precious stones, and perhaps forgotten coins lost behind a sheet of darkness…

I was almost to the gate when the Town Hall again caught my eye. This time it was the noise and the bright lights from the windows that intrigued me and led me closer to investigate. I peaked from behind the glass to witness a party that was at hand. A massive table was in the middle of a foyer filled with all kinds of food; roasted boar, seasoned chicken, lots of potatoes, fruits, wines, and more. There wasn't one spot on the table that wasn't covered by a plate, cup, platter, or bowl. The hall was decorated with flags, banners, ribbons, and servants were coming back and forth from the kitchen bringing even more food, even more wine, and even more mead. The people were most interesting because a majority of them were dwarves, drunk and merry. I smiled and stood there for several minutes watching them interact. I could feel that some had magic lingering in their lungs whether they knew it or not.

"Oh? And pray tell us all what you know about dragons, Fili?" A dwarf with straggly dark hair and a bent hat called out to one of the younglings. A roar of laughter filled the hall and suddenly every single voice was talking at once.

The youngling, Fili, stood; his long blonde hair concealing half of his face as he looked towards his fellow companions. "I'm not trying to claim anything, what I'm saying is I'm not afraid of any dragon whether it's Smaug or not."

Wait, what? Did I miss something or are these dwarves talking about Smaug? The dragon beneath the mountain? I stood on my tip toes to listen better and get a closer glimpse of the faces of these short men… but a loud slam sent a shiver down my spine and I quickly ducked behind a planted shrubbery to hide my very obviously eavesdropping.

A dwarf had just left the hall, closing the door with a loud thump, and was strolling on the catwalk towards the main gate. Although I could not see his face, I did not recall seeing the markings of his armor in the Master's building. He must not have dined with his friends and stayed away from the festivities. I stood up and watched him leave the town without a look back. I was about to peep back through the window once more but a sensation struck me through my fingertips and I found myself staring at where the wondering dwarf had just disappeared. Something was telling me to follow, it was calling me forward. He must have been the one I sensed magic in because now, where I was, the air felt stripped away and bare.

I hesitated to follow him, something in the wind was not right but yet, it was telling me to go. I quickly found a dark alleyway and opened up my sack to pull out my armor. Even in the dim light of the crescent moon, I could see the dark blue markings that swirled around on the shiny silver plates. I made haste, latching my leg and arm protection in place. This was all a precaution, I had no idea what the sensation was speaking to me but something made me nervous and extremely timid; that was never a good sign.

As soon as all my gear was in place, I chased off after him. Silently praying he didn't wonder too far off before he ran into what I thought was already waiting for him. In almost no time at all, I was through the main gate to the town and the dwarf was already out of sight. I could feel the sensation still in me, whirling, and filling my lungs. I let it led me back to the river and started to follow it upstream. My heart began to race in my chest, pounding against my rib cage and heart. An adrenaline rush was spreading throughout my body, now I knew my bad feeling was not just intuition. The sensation eventually guided me away from the flowing water and up a small dune; here, even in the darkness, I could see a struggle occurred in the sand. Fresh blood had created tinted mud that glistened in the moonlight and lone dagger was left sunk in the earth.

I did not investigate; obviously events were occurring quicker than I anticipated. I ran up the slope and straight into a fading forest. The scattered blanket of leaves dimmed my sight even more but I followed the magic still drifting in the air and the small rays of light from the night sky. I was almost there; I could hear voices in the wind. I slumped down against a boulder and without a single noise, unsheathed my sword. I crunched next to the solid rock and listened.

"_We are gooooooing to fillet you up nice and goooooood, bring your head to the Azog on a shinnnnny silver platter." _A voice jeered and a crackle of laughter broke out, evil and demonic each snicker was.

"If you think I can be beaten by such filth, you are easily deceived," a smooth voice chimed in. It must have been the dwarf, I couldn't imagine an orc or goblin whose words were both so smoky and pleasant. From his speech, he didn't sound hurt and he seemed confident in his situation but I could feel the magic turn in his lungs, his heart race in his chest, and his breath rapidly increasing. He was surrounded. I could tell without looking but by how many?

_"Look around you," _another throaty creature spoke up._ "Nowhere to turn, nowhere to run… Poor stupid dwarfling, your days are done."_ I could hear the dwarf scoff at that and his feet sliding across the dirt, preparing himself for the inevitable attack. I clenched my sword in my right hand.

"I didn't cross most of Middle Earth to die in the hands of pathetic, disgusting orcs… Nor do I ever intend too." The orcs cracked back into a monstrous laugh, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up straight. I closed my eyes and counted the voices; _one, two, three, four….._ The dwarf was surround by at least six of these demons. It would be hard to take on so many by one's self, especially in the shade of night.

I peaked around the corner of my refuge, self-assured that my presence was unaware, and saw the orcs stepping closer to the dwarf; one slithering step at a time. They were in an insignificant opening in the forest but it was enough to allow starlight to flood onto them and make the surroundings visible. The dwarf was not wounded although I could see blood trickling down the fur on his leather coat, but his stood tall with an axe raised high in his hands. He was ready and so was I.

The first orc to attack came from his right stand, pulling out two daggers hidden within its rags, and charged him at full speed. The dwarf stayed in stance, protecting his openings, and was not surprised when the orc jumped to make contact. He instantly met the two blades with the neck of his axe and with a giant heave, his throw the creature back down to the forest floor. He lifted his axe to finish him, but this was only a distraction. The moment he left himself open, the rest of the band began their assault. They rushed at every direction towards the dwarf, broken axes and rusty swords high their hands while they continued to crackle their sick laughter.

It was at that very moment, I sprung from my hiding spot and stormed the unsuspecting monsters. Three had already made their way to the dwarf, but he easily dodged their attacks and struck one hard with a swift counter move with the edge of his axe. The two whose backs were turned to me, I picked off quickly. They were completely oblivious of my existence and I swiftly slit through the back of one's neck, black blood oozing out as my blade sliced through his spinal cord. The second orc turned when his friend fell without ever knowing what hit him. I quickly shifted my weight and rushed at him, the tip of my sword straight towards the filth. I pieced him through the chest, listening to ribs crack and break as they stretched to make room for the metal intruder. The blade breached his lungs and as I pulled my blade out he gasps for air, clawing at his neck with black, sharp nails.

I left him and noticed that dwarf had taken out one of the ocrs but still was being bombarded by three blood thirsty monsters. They were so obsessed with killing him that my existence was still being unnoticed and I needed to change that. Within a blink, I sliced open the back of a dark green orc that was raising his mace to attack my unknowing friend. The creature cried out in agony and dropped to his knees as blood dripped out, I raised my sword again but the remaining of the gang suddenly become conscious of me. One instantly jumped me and the dwarf took advantage of the other monster's shock.

The orc that came out me had a two handed sword, rusted and chipped. He swung it hard and I barely missed it. I felt a slight cut form across my check and as I reset my footing, a droplet slipped down my chin. He rushed again, holding his sword towards the sky, but I was prepared. He began to swing when abruptly his stopped. I took several feet back from him as he staggers and his body goes limp. He falls to the ground with a great thump with an axe spiked in his head.

I smiled, catching my breath and wiping the blood from my face. I looked at the dwarf who is staring down at all our fallen foes and he suddenly looks back at me. In the moonlight, I could see his features; his long dark hair with small braids around his face and long bread, his stormy blue eyes reflecting small hints of light and shades of navy from his armor, and his handsome face chiseled and carved like a statue.

"I… am… very lucky that you happened to be passing by when you did," he told me with sincerity, but his eyes wondered over me. He was gazing at my armor and the blade in my palm…

"I wasn't passing by," I admitted with a shrug. "I followed you from Lake Town, you really shouldn't wonder off by yourself." He didn't say anything right away, at first he seemed almost embarrassed but right after he grew stiff and his eyes narrowed not sure what to think about being stalked. I left him there to ponder and walked over to a dead orc, the dwarf fixed on watching every single movement as I went. I sheathed my sword and shuffled around in the dead monster's supplies, the disgusting stench of stale blood rotting in my nose. I almost wanted to gag but I held back until I found a coin purse. I grinned. Sweet, sweet, gold that I can exchange for a bed someplace; at least the night is looking a tad better.

"Who are you?" The dwarf finally asked me and I stood up. I hesitated whether to tell the truth but it mattered not either way.

"My name is Tierra," I told him, "of Pelargir." His eyes widen a bit;

"You're a long way from home Tierra of Pelargir." I could hear the seriousness in his voice, it stung with an unusually roughness. He was unsure to trust me, what to think of me. "You're armor is not like any I've seen before, where did you acquire it?"

"Does it live up well to your dwarf standards?" I chuckled. "My father forged these plates for me many years ago. He noticed that I could not carry the extra weight of silver nor were leathers strong enough to protect me; he told me he mixed dragon blood in the metal, to make it light but solid." I knocked on the metal chest piece, it vibrated and rung pleasantly. "No one knows if that is true though." I winked.

"And your sword?" He quickly added and I wasn't surprised he asked, I walked over to the dwarf and drew it from its home. In the faint glow of the night sky, the blade glimmered as I handed it to him. He took it carefully with both palms, inspecting it.

"I ran into an orc that was carrying it, thought it deserved better." I spoke but he did not reply. He was engrossed in the blade, tracing the characters engraved in the metal.

On leveled ground, I noticed that I stood not much taller than him. I watched him, his face expressions changed from serious to calm, very calm. I could feel my fingers begin to tingle and a sensation was washing over me. There was magic drifting in the chilly air, brushing against my skin and tangling in my hair but there was something else here now. I could feel it, was it in his lungs again? I closed my eyes for a moment to breathe in; I could sense his heart rate ticking like a clock, a steady pace, but his mind was adrift in memories. He was lost in a forgotten moment that happened many years ago.

I opened my eyes and watched him carefully, "You know this sword?" I asked.

"Yes."

"You can keep it then." I told him, the words jumped out of my mouth, and he suddenly looked to me, his blue eyes opened as wide as the ocean.

"What?"

"You can take it with you."

"Why would you do that for me? You owe me nothing."

I shifted awkwardly on my feet; I didn't like anyone to know about my…sorcery, as people have named it that before. It draws to me unwanted attention and sometimes a misplaced hatred. When people don't completely comprehend something, they assume, and it means the worst. Helping a child falling to their death by casting a simple levitation spell will only grant someone like me a mob escort straight out of village…or right into a dungeon.

"I can tell you have a connection to it," I lied with another shoulder shrug but I knew that there was more to that. He glanced down at the blade, his fingers tips still resting on the ancient words. The dwarf's eyes were soft, thoughtful, and full of nostalgia.

"This is Durilurin… my father's sword." He spoke carefully. "Both it and him were lost after the Battle of Moria. I thought, for sure, I would never see it again." The dwarf was oh so tranquil with his words but my mind was racing. Magic was burning through me like wildfire but I wasn't sure what it was trying to reveal to me. Why would this story make my blood rush? Where were the dots for me to connect?

"Who was your father?"

"Thrain, son of Thror."

My heart stopped, my blood boiling suddenly came to a clean halt and cooled. The dwarf that stood before me was no common folk, no normal man, but royalty. How did I miss it? His clothes, the armor, hair, and eyes were all marks and clues yet I overlooked them so easily. How did I not recognize the Durin prince?

"You're Thorin Oakenshield…" the words literally slipped between my lips and wondered into the brisk night air. He raised an eyebrow at me;

"You know me?"

"Only stories," I told him and the look on his face changed to an even more curious one.

"Stories? People talk about me?" I laughed at his remark, hard enough to make me hold my sides.

"Well, yes. I mean, it's been two hundred years since you left Erebor correct? Since Smaug conquered your grandfather's treasure?" He nodded slowly and I continued; "My great-great-grandfather was a child who lived in the Kingdom of Dale when the dragon lit the world on fire that fateful night. He used to tell my grandfather romantic tales about young dwarves forging beautiful trinkets before the dragon and the battles the transpired right after. They were passed down and my father carried these anecdotes with him all his life up until the day he died. Fortunately he gave them to my brother and me." I explained to him but in the back of my mind I could even now hear my father's deep, low grumble reproduce the events in his own words.

Thorin stared at me again; the look in his eyes told me that he was amazed that his story was being passed down by other families from generation to generation. Dwarves live longer than men; a couple centuries may only mark half of their existence. To him, it must have felt only years ago when it's been ages.

I took a second to untie Durilurin's cover from my belt and handed it to Thorin. At first he hesitated, his face flashed with an uncertainty that I could not read. I did not know whether he trusted me or thought that I was in same way trying to cheat him. After several blinks, he finally grabbed it and sheathed the blade, carefully leaning it against a tree while he shifted and began to loosen the weapon at his hip.

"I will not leave you defenseless," he told me as he fumbled, "I've been told this sword has killed countless orcs and was given the name Orcrist." Thorin freed himself from it and offered the sharpened piece of metal to me. I took hold of it without a second thought and held it against the light. The fine silver, superb oak carved grip and small curved designs made it unmistakably Elvish.

"Thank you." I said with a smile on my face and he returned me a small grin, his face lightening up, and his blue eyes flashing with small amounts of excitement. There something there, in the way he looked at me, that made my blood sprint to my heart.

"It's the very least I can do," he told me, picking up the Dwarvish sword with one hand. "If you hadn't jumped in earlier, I would have been ripped apart eventually, and this sword…well it's more than I could ask for-"

"I would have done the same for anyone," I cut in. Thorin's eyes were on me once more, stuck as if glued to me with tree sap. He was still unsure what to think about me, my manners, and my generosity. If he knew my intentions, my objective, he wouldn't need to ponder and may even be tempted to cut me down where I stood. He was the only person; dwarf, human, or elf, who holds the right to rule Durin folk, to collect the endless treasure, to be crowned king of Erebor. The Lonely Mountain was his name sake, land to his people and kin, and my destination.

* * *

_**Thanks for coming back for chapter two! The plot is slowly started to brew and I'm excited to go forth and conquer the next events to come. A huge shout out to my lone follower LazySmurf247 for favoring my story on the first chapter! Thanks for having so much faith in my story! I appreciate it to no end! **__**Don't be afraid to leave me a review, I promise I don't bite...much. -Inkie**_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Just One Drink

Together, Thorin and I walked back to Lake Town. We talked briefly to one another but mainly he asked me questions. When I approached him with something his answers were always short, straight to the point, with a few perfectly chosen words. I could tell he remained wary of me; he either walked right beside me or behind, never leaving himself open to me. It didn't bother me, walking into an ambush usually leaves a person on edge; it was only natural after all.

"Your father… was a blacksmith?" Thorin asked as we finally reached the shore of the river, he stepped besides me to walk along my right side. I could tell he was still interested about my armor and perhaps something else since curiosity had found its way to his face again.

"Sometimes," I told him, "I guess you can say he was a jack-of-all-trades, he was always running around doing odd jobs for people to earn a few coins."

"Aye, how did you learn to fight then?" The question was very blunt, not intended to be polite but direct. As I walked, I could see the moon overhead lighting our path in a soft glow and I hesitated to give him the reality of it, afraid that it could reveal to him more than enough.

"My father was mercenary at one point in his life, he used to train my brother hoping one day he would become a knight or something of that fashion," I told Thorin. "I used to sit in the grass while they sparred, listening to their swords clash and their shields ring. One day, I got sick of watching and joined them." This was no lie; I was only withholding the remaining of the truth from him.

"Is that so?" He questioned to almost himself. "And your father was keen to train you? A lady?" I scoffed at him;

"Lady? I was never some gentle, fair maiden." I waved the thought away with my hand and Thorin gazed up at me as I explained. "I was always getting into trouble as a child, never attending my lessons, constantly snooping around dark corners. My father had tried to civilize me at one point, hiring a waiting maid to teach me how to be a proper wife." I laughed at the last words I spoke, as if being a wife was something you could simply teach to someone else.

"I suppose then your father had no difficulty accepting you into his training?" I laughed again, this time covering my mouth and Thorin raised an eyebrow.

"The first day I came to their post with a sword, he refused to do anything with me. He kept telling me to go home, start dinner, finish my drawings… The second day was the same, he even yelled at me to leave but I stayed with my sword, waiting for his instructions."

"When did he budge?" He asked.

"Not for an entire week." I told him. "On the eighth day he came over to me and said, 'Aye, now lay down your sword and prepare yourself girl.' I was completely unaware to what he had in store me for, I wasn't even sure if he was actually going to let me spar with my brother and him."

"I'm guessing he did?"

I shook my head, "Not right away, instead he came at me and beat me till I couldn't stand." Thorin was again staring at me as we strolled, the town gate now in view. A nice splash of disbelief was covering his face and drowning in his deep blue eyes. "He fought me every day for a week, each day harder and more painful than the day before. I came home every night with a black eye, a sore check, and maybe a couple cracked ribs but the next day I would be out there again, waiting with my sword."

"Why did you not fight back?" He was intrigued with my story now, wanting to know the rest. I could feel the magic in his lungs rise and turn.

"Pssshhh, it's not like I didn't try. I was a weak kid though and none of my punches could possibly harm him. My father was built to take damage."

"What did you do then?"

"I _endured_…" I muttered softly to him with a sigh. I stopped walking suddenly and turned to face Thorin. He came to a surprised halt as well and looked me in the eyes. "Do you know the difference between a knight and a thief?" I asked him.

"One steals? The other protects?" He answered.

"Yes… but there's more. A thief hides in the shadows because they know there will always be someone to trying to stop them, someone stronger than them, someone better than them. A knight though, will bathe in the sunlight waiting for their enemies. They will either endure the fight and win, becoming stronger than they were before…or die trying." I sighed softly, "My father taught me this lesson with his fists a long time ago for you see if I could not endure like a knight, then I could never deserve to train like one."

Thorin said nothing back me, his mind wondered off as we finished our stride into town. I could not read the expression on his face and his body language gave me no clues to what thoughts were streaming behind his cloudy eyes. Yet, I could feel the sensation that dwelled within him unknowingly. His heart throbbed with a stiff pump and his lungs inhaled awkwardly, in a strange scatter. Whatever this exiled prince was thinking lead him far away from here. Did my words put him there? Or did something remind him of a time long past?

We reached the door to the Master's house and the town was quiet with slumber. It was near midnight, a sliver of the moon was leaning towards the mountains, and the stars disguised the night sky with a blanket of speckled diamonds. I could leave Thorin here, at this door, walk away without another word. He was safe now, the magic in the air was resting without disturbance in the sweet, calming night, but I lingered. I stayed.

In weak sheen of light, Thorin stood with a stern look across his face with one hand hanging on the hilt of his sheathed sword. He looked as if he were far off, running through distant thoughts, and dipping his fingertips in forgotten memories. I could only wonder what the taste of his contemplations were, speculate what path his mind led him down. A sensation was growing inside me, it began in my lungs filling my breath with warmth and spread to the chambers of my heart, beating in rhythm to my pulse. I could feel it in every joint, all my bones, driving through my veins, and settling down in the corner of my brain. I could almost chase it around my body, feeling the magic wash over me, but when I pursued it inside; it hid from me. Not wanting to be found.

"Tierra?" a voice spoke and I jumped at the sound of my own name. My blood suddenly rushed through me and I started to tremble when my gaze met Throin's.

"Yes?" the words came out in an almost whisper.

"Why did you follow me?" His words were filled with thoughts, I could almost see through them and into him. He hesitated to trust me, but he was tempted to try, maybe?

I sighed; "Ever get a bad feeling?" was the way I responded to him with a question, still wanting my powers to remain unknown, and in return, he gave me a smile I never seen before. Thorin nearly hid it from me, looking down while I talked; but I caught a glimpse of a flash of satisfaction when he looked up, catching my eyes with his own storm blue stare. It made my heart race and I darted my view instantly. But the sensation inside me was bundled up overwhelmingly, stirring, turning, whirling in my chest. Why? What was this? What was making me so….nervous?

"I'm glad I met you, Tierra. I may know nothing about you but I've never known anyone so…"

"Outlandish?" I cut in and he gave me a look with a half grin, head tilt.

"Not the word I was searching for," he admitted with a sly smile and I shrugged. "I would say unpredictable for you have probably been one of the most pleasant surprises I've had on my quest."

"I'm sure you'll have many more," I told him back, it was the only thing I could think to say.

"Unlikely. Until we meet again…" He turned to door, reaching for the doorknob. He was about to make his leave and suddenly anxiety hit me;

If he left, would I ever see him again?

Out of all my swarming thoughts, with all my sensations overflowing, and all the silent whispers in the wind; the only thing I could grasp was Thorin and his daunting echoing footsteps.

My mind was racing, logic was kicking in and telling me:_ leave, go, walk away, this Durin Prince has nothing for you except the tip of his sword when he realizes what you are, what your after_. But there was magic beating in my heart, pumping, throbbing, singing, yearning. A cloud was forming over my thoughts and my whole world turned upside down. When the mind says move on while the heart claims stay; where is the path I'm meant to obey?

"Don't go," the words slipped out before I had decided and Thorin was nearly through the door. He looked back at me and I realized I had my left hand out, slightly extended, reaching to him. I quickly withdraw it and for a moment, there was only silence between us. His eyes searched me and under his gaze, I felt my nervous shake melt away into the cold air.

I broke first, "Come get a drink for me? It's barely midnight and I know the inn will still be serving."

Thorin didn't speak right away, his eyes darted inside the house, contemplating. He looked back at me and slowly withdrew from the house, taking one step towards me. "And what pray will we do?"

"Talk, drink, what other chance on my journey am I to meet a prince?" I shrugged but my heart still raced. Why did I want him to stay so bad?

He scoffed; "A prince needs a kingdom to have any majesty," he said to me.

"I've been told there is one not far from here, beneath a mountain… " His mouth twitch in a quick grin and he closed the door to the Town Master's house with a soft thud.

We walked by moonlight to reach the mead hall, we didn't not speak to one another the entire way but the silence did not bother me. I welcomed the calm with the night air as I took a moment to breathe in and drain the sensations from my fingertips. My heart kept its rapid rhythm though, pounding against my ribcage like a bird fluttering to escapes it's metal trap.

I stole glances at Thorin, catching momentary rays of starlight cascading down on him from above, highlighting his cheekbones and strands of dark hair. It gave him an alluring glow and made the magic swell inside me. I took another breath, attempting to calm the rustling sensations that were driving me but they overthrew me, flooding my senses. My fingers tingled filling with warmth and my lungs felt light as the air they gather.

We came to the inn and he held the door open for me as we rushed in from the brisk air. The hall was mostly empty with few stragglers sitting here or there. The same bartender from earlier was still keeping post so I found my way to him while Thorin wandered off. I ordered a bottle of plum wine and stole a couple of goblets from the bar before finding the Dwarf Prince in the farthest corner from the front door. I sat with him and poured our drinks in the warm light of the candle burning on the chipping wooden table.

"Do you invite everyone you encounter to drink with you?" Thorin asked me while I closed the bottle.

"Just the ones I like," I answered without looking at him and he shifted awkwardly in his chair. I handed him his cup and he took it from me without a blink. We sat and sipped, the sweet taste of the wine dipped me back into a short bliss. I was sitting in the field of lavender again… Listening to the droplets of a rain shower…The world for one second was a luxury I could afford.

"What does Esgaroth offer that brings a lost dwarf to its doors?" I asked him, holding my glass in my hand.

"You must have arrived to town late," he stated, taking sips from his wine periodically.

"Oh? Did I miss all of the commotion?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Aye, you missed out you did. Practically a mob at the Town Master's house," Now that he mentioned it, there was a group of people upon my arrival, even a few dwarves…

"Didn't like short men, did they?" I teased but Thorin's face remained serious and he scoffed as he replied;

"They don't like what I'm after…"

"And what is that?" I asked and he's answer came with a strange look, one that was curious meanwhile distrustful. He hesitated to tell me but also knowing the information was spreading throughout town like a disease meant I could easily acquire it from someone else…

"My kin…myself…" He selected each word carefully in his head while sipping his wine. "We've all dreamt of the day when the Dwarves of Erebor would reclaim their homeland and finally, tomorrow at dawn, my company marches to the mountain." The wine in my throat clung to the walls in my neck, choking me. I strained to hold back a cough as sudden realization hit me harder and faster than any knock out I had ever been given.

Thorin was planning to storm the Lonely Mountain, claim his heritage, and retake the throne. Our meeting had not occur on accident, it was no coincidence. Fate had intertwine our destinies and brought us both here, whiter he realized it or not. We had the same destination but different goals. My mind wondered to what his reaction might be if I told him what I came here for, what I was after. Would he offer a place among his man to help him warn off a fiery dragon? Or would he try to end my journey with the sharp edge of his father's sword? Only the mighty Valar knew how a person may react to a disguised thief ready to steal from them.

"What about the dragon?" I asked, between clenched teeth. Suddenly my entire disposition had changed from a nervous mess to an anxious shipwreck. If I chose to venture to the mountain, the odds of running into his company ran high, and what happens after that? When the protector, rightful heir, bumps into a snaky snake?

"Rumors have spread, the dragon Smaug has not been seen in many years..." he spoke while I poured him another glass. "Pray to Mahal the beast has perished beneath all that plunder."

"If not….?" His looked to me at the very corners of his eyes, his face grew dark; he did not have a plan to defeat the monster. "I can see why the town's people were upset with you."

"I have the only right to go into the mountain," Thorin told me in a deep, low grumble.

"You don't need to persuade me," I told him, taking sip after sip of my wine. My head was beginning to feel light, adrift, and my body began to relax with the alcohol. The adrenaline from him and the information he just revealed was still zipping through sensations and cloudy thoughts but I felt comfortable.

The night grew late, the moon had set but the stars were still out in the dark sky. Our conversations hushed down but we remained in the hall talking to one another. I even got him to laugh at me, his blue eyes twinkled and his face lite up. I remember pouring the last of the wine and I must have got us another bottle because I was drinking again.

Time was lost in a blurry disarray, forgotten, and drowned like the whispers. I've lost sight of my surroundings, my priorities, objectives, but still, rather, very focused on one thing; Thorin.

"Tell me, why do you come to Lake Town?" He asked me in the candle light, his eyes glossed over with an intoxicated sheen. I couldn't point a finger on how many cups I had poured him...

"I'm searching for my brother," I spoke my very well-rehearsed lie.

"The same one from your tale?"

"The very same. I haven't seen him in a several years," that part was not a lie. I looked into my cup, the purple wine reflected red blood in the warm glow and for a single second all I could see was the crimson shine of bodily fluids. "And I have not received a letter from him in some time, thought I would come up and find him myself."

"You two are close?"

"He used to brush my hair for me..." I spoke, not thinking about the words before they came out. "We had no mother you see, it was just the three of us. Cecil was older and more orderly than me. He liked things to have a proper place, for spaces to be nice and clean."

"Reminds me of someone I know…" Thorin chuckled more to himself. I smiled.

"I like for things to be wild and natural, my brother would always settle me down though and untangle the leaves out of my braids. He was the one to teach me to read, write poetry… He always found the patience for me." I remember struggling under my brother's grip one day long ago as he tried to drag me home. I wanted to run in between the trees, let the wind guide my path, and walk along lost spirits. There always remained a strong energy in the trees that outlined our small domestic clearing. It called to me often as a child; I would chase it willingly, unknowingly. It would be my brother who would run after me, look for me, bring me home tied up like some sort of swine. He wouldn't speak to me until we're within the warm doors of our cabin.

"_You don't know who's calling you, Tierra. You wander farther and farther from home every time you go out there and it worries me." _This was always the beginning of his lecture.

"So you never knew your mother?" I broke back into reality, my head was slipping into the past and nesting there in the sweet memories.

"No, even Cecil once told me he could never remember his mother and said our father brought me home one day when he was very young..."

"You're an orphan?" Thorin questioned and I shrugged.

"I honestly can't tell you, my father never spoke of it. He didn't care to explain things, wasn't much meant for words."

"Does that not bother you?" The question stirred in me for a moment, memories of my father's low, deep humming vibrating off the logs of our forgotten cabin home turned the ambers in my heart.

"It never occurred to me that it should bother me," I admitted, I could reminisce in all the times my father presence was the only thing I needed. His faded olive eyes looking down at me, his wiry white hair and beard with a thin smile spread across his lips gave me a comfort that no words could ever grant me. There was something about him that made the air light and the atmosphere dance. With him, my magic was still like undisturbed water on an open lake. Silent, calm, yet oh so powerful and beautiful.

"What was your father's name?" Thorin broke my concentration with his rough voice as his fingers played with the tip of his goblet.

"Ternar,"I spoke. "He died a long time ago though…" I lingered again in my mind, flashes of blood came in my vision but I blinked them away. I needed to stay in the present, remain in the now, drifting too far into my own subconscious routes to a shadowy area.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Thorin said and it surprised me that he was giving me condolences.

"I can say the same to you," I said and our eyes met. His eyes were as deep as the ocean, the flames of the candle flickered and dance in the blue like waves hitting the coast in violent crashes. Why have I revealed so much about myself to him? He still could not have any hints to my plans, he was completely obvious. Yet it is me tangling myself with a potential enemy that could possibly devastate my entire journey...But I didn't want to run from him, didn't want to leave the strange luxury of Thorin's company. He made me feel a strange energy in my blood, pumping in my heart.

It didn't make any sense but with the wine dancing through me and lost memories trying to resurface; all I wanted was to be right here.

Was this right? Did he feel the same energy? The same magic? I noticed that over the discussion the distance between us had slowly dwindled, our knees barely touched beneath the table and his glossy eyes rarely left my own unclear gaze.

"Tell me," I said to him, leaning over the table slightly, letting my fingers run over the natural wooden grain closer to him. "What does an exiled prince do after he loses his kingdom and before he goes to reclaim his land?"

"What do you mean?"

"I want to know what you were doing before you took this quest, before you made your journey to this lonely town," I explained.

"I would say I was much like your father, in that case. I took jobs in the towns of men, blacksmithing for knights and common folk."

"What was your favorite memory of that time?" I asked and he raised in eyebrow to me, a confused face appeared to me. "I know if I were to ask you about Erebore, you would recall majesty, beautiful, wealth, royalty, grand treasures of imaginable size… I bet you could tell me about it all night until my ears bleed." Thorin opened his mouth to respond but he withdrew so I continued, "I guess… the point that I'm getting too… is after a prince losses everything, what gives him happiness? What moments does he cherish most? Besides his quest to reconquer glory… "

Thorin didn't answer right away, he stared at me for perhaps a minute, while the wheels turned in his head. "I've never thought about it but thinking now, there is a moment that strikes me."

"Tell me."

"I was taking work in Archet, this may have been seventy years ago, and was being commissioned by a filthy man to forge a suit of armor for his son. He was particular and he expected it to be done for a cheap price. I was bitter with him the entire job and held a grudge against the man for trashing several pieces I had already made for him… But the day came when I was finished and he paid me without a word. The armor was piece of art, one of my very best I myself created from my bare hands, and I thought I would never see it again…" Thorins voice was filled with thought and held a certain charm to it.

"Till one day, at my forge, a young man appeared wearing it. He may have been only seventeen years to the day but he towered over me several feet. He explained that his father had told him that I had crafted the suit for him and he wanted to personally thank me. The way he recognized my work made me feel as if I was a famous blacksmith and treated me as if he was not human and I were not a dwarf. Equal. Unlike his dirty father…"

"I know he wear that armor every battle he charged into…until the day he died as an old man. They engraved his house emblem on it and passed it down to his sons."

"How did that make you feel?" I asked and he looked into my eyes, his hands were on the table next to my own.

"I felt sorrow for his death but alas a sense of pride that came from knowing that my armor had served him through countless struggles, protected him against his enemies, and shielded him from danger. I had hated the man who paid me to create it but his son gave it a legacy that I never dreamed it'd have." I smiled but said nothing to Thorin in response. This was the most he has spoken to me, his words were warm and full with a hint of willingness. They were sweet to listen to.

We were close to each other, he sat only a few inches away from me and I let my heart race over while I softly touched the top of his hands with my fingertips when I withdrew my arm from the table. He gazed up at me, his eyes filled with a look I knew too well.

_What am I doing? _I could only think in a dizzy head filled with loose thoughts._ This is no bard, this is a Dwarf prince… _But yet that meant so little to me right now…

Thorin reached across our small distance and pushed aside loose strands of my hair, tucking them behind my ear. His skin was cold against my own...

"Your hair glistens like silver," His voice calm, soft, undoubtedly smooth. All I could do was stare at his lips, gradually leaning closer. "You're eyes glimmer as if it were precious emerald." He let his fingers slip through the length of my hair flawlessly and our gaze met again, he looked at me with his eyes filled with desire.

Sensations were building up inside but so was panic. Thorin was not an ordinary man, not common folk, and our paths are entwined. Even with all my magic, I cannot predict the future and falling into the arms of a prince sounded nice but eventually reality will come back and the alcohol faded away.

"Do you want to go outside?" It was the first thing I could think off, attempting to change the mood. Thorin gave me an odd look but agreed, the soft notes in his voice suddenly gone.

* * *

_**Author Notes:**_

_**This chapter was very interesting to write, the dialogue was hard for me because I want Thorin to really reflect the character we all fell in love with in the movies. Hopefully I did an okay job, let me know if you have an suggestions to keep my Thorin as majestic as Richard Armitage**_. _**Personally would like to thank my followers for having faith in my story; CamillaLandon, Melow445, Revelationwabve,The Cajun Phoenix, eightbitowl, gallowsCalibrator92, pandoradreamsamazing, passingwhisper, pure1ruby, and last but not least at all xoulblade. You guys follows and favorites really motivate me to push forward with my story. If you have a minute, please leave me a note in the reviews box. If there is anyway to get me to update sooner, it's lovely reviews from my beautiful readers. ;) Thanks for coming back, the next chapter is half way through so hopefully it will be up by the end of this week! Ciao! -Inkie **_


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